


alone in the sunlight

by princesszaf



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M, it's fluff it's silly i'm in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 18:46:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7065799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesszaf/pseuds/princesszaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's summer, it's steaming - there's really nothing else to do but argue over Uno rules and indulgently make out. </p><p>( just fluffy fluffing fluff! )</p>
            </blockquote>





	alone in the sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> donut remind me of that hyungline angst fic im supposed to finish.......pls
> 
> but how cute are yugbam??? lemme answer for u: the CUTEST

Sweltering summer days just do _not_ make room for productivity.

It’s difficult enough, Yugyeom will assure you, to sit through a stressful game of Uno with the whiniest person in existence (he says that with complete fondness), air conditioner barely working, sheer curtains doing little to block the cruel stream of midday glare. It doesn’t matter – they’re on break anyway. Few people are as self-loathing as their friend Choi Youngjae, star pupil and true Samaritan, who voluntarily _chose_ to spend his summer vacation working at a music store. Yugyeom’s parents find great pleasure in reminding him of just that – _learn a thing or two from your hyung_ , they’d say, chidingly over dinner. _You really can’t waste your whole day with Kunpimook, can you?_ And he supposes Bambam hears the same lecture too, over and over again, the way he’s constantly grumbling before finding comfort in Yugyeom’s arms.

You’re allowed to be aimless when you’re young, is what Yugyeom stubbornly tells himself and anyone else willing enough to hear him out. Jinyoung pretends to listen – he’s a good hyung like that, questionable in several other ways, Jaebum just rolls his eyes and Youngjae would only pat his back reassuringly. “I agree!” And he’d say that with his sunshine smile, the sort that lights up the entire room, and it’d be wholly sanctimonious if it were coming from someone else.

You can’t dislike Choi Youngjae. You really, really can’t.

But it’s not difficult with Kunpimook Bhuwakul – he’s got his spider limbs stretched across Yugyeom’s bed, for one, petulant frown set deeply in place, plump lips wavering in threat of a pout. Yugyeom can’t deal with those most of the time, he _really_ can’t and nobody can possibly blame him for being a weak man. It’s objectively difficult to hold your ground when faced with Bambam’s pout, especially when they tremble with emotion. All of it is factitious – Bambam’s just a brat like that, knows how to play Yugyeom like nobody else does – but it’s so persuasive.

In front of them sit two overflowing decks of cards, another messy scatter of cards, on top of which sit not one, not two but _six_ draw fours, all simpering in Bambam’s direction. That’s what you get when you have a close-knit group of friends, all aggressively enthusiastic about Uno, cards disappearing and new decks reappearing with every hangout. Mark’s got one half, Yugyeom’s got another – it just rotates like that, passing from one friend to another.

“That’s an illegal move!” Bambam protests, clutching onto one of Yugyeom’s pillows – this fluffy lavender one he’s practically laid claim on, actually _fought_ for against Jackson several years ago.

“It wasn’t illegal when you were plotting to take me down,” Yugyeom scoffs, patience tested. He’s more than a little irritated, rolling his eyes as Bambam gasps dramatically. There’s a string of Bambam’s theatrics, all of which Yugyeom’s too used to. He’s invulnerable to them all, he likes to think, is conditioned to all of it – Bambam’s clawing at his bare ankles now and Yugyeom pulls them back, sitting cross legged and crooks a brow at him.

“Just pick up the cards,” Yugyeom sighs, rubbing his temples. “Twenty four, Bambam. You can do it.”

Bambam doesn’t reply to him for a bit, all too busy glaring at his phone and jabbing angrily at it. And then – _God_ , was he predictable – he hovers his phone right above the cards, biting his lower lip as he makes his camera focus and takes a picture. “Check your Snapchat,” he huffs, retreating into himself and folding his arms around his knees.

Yugyeom is intrigued, Yugyeom is amused – he’d pay to watch Bambam’s antics on loop – and digs into his pocket for his phone, clicking his Snapchat icon. He checks his story and what do you know, it’s the slew of draw fours captioned, ‘tfw ur friends betray u’. He laughs (takes a screenshot too, why the heck not), loud and disbelieving, turning his gaze to Bambam again who only just sits there, really, cheeks flushed. “Checked my Snapchat. You’re being bratty again.”

“Am not,” Bambam retorts immediately. There’s a lull in the air, neither talking and Bambam whips his head to Yugyeom again. “I’m not picking those cards up.”

“Alright,” Yugyeom nods, pretending to be accommodating, “Then we’ll just ask the group.”

“Nope,” Bambam’s quick, eyes wide with dread, “We’re _not_ doing anything like that. I’m not playing.”

“We’re playing,” he’s nodding solemnly, barely looking at Bambam now, focusing his attention on his phone again. “And we’re _definitely_ asking the group.”

“We are _not_ –“

“Or Google,” he hums, silencing Bambam with an absent wave of his hand. A weighted pause and then, “Maybe _both_.”

See, Yugyeom’s had years and years of experience to shield himself from Bambam’s pouting, his whining, his general over the top behavior – he doesn’t, sadly, have a lot of experience with _this._

Bambam’s crawled his way onto Yugyeom’s lap, pushing decks aside, cards toppling all over the floor. He’s straddling him, wrapping slender fingers around Yugyeom’s wrist while his other hand gently caresses Yugyeom’s cheek. This…this is a recent development, something that started less than four months ago, was made official a few weeks after. He’s not conditioned to _any_ of this – his hands feel sweaty all of a sudden, phone slipping from his grasp, plopping onto the mattress. He swallows, Bambam notices him swallowing and there are few things in the world more distracting than Kunpimook Bhuwakul fixing his smirk in place, the sort he only reserves for private bedroom moments like this one, boyfriend conveniently wedged under him.

“Yugyeom…” he murmurs in the space between them, licking his lips, staring at Yugyeom’s.

Yugyeom stares back at Bambam’s too – only because it’s so, _so_ close – and he doesn’t know who kisses whom first. They meet halfway and if the heat wasn’t burning him alive, this does it. Bambam tastes of lip gloss and mint, soft noises of pleasure drowning in Yugyeom’s mouth, hands pinning Yugyeom’s wrist above his head, right against the wall, before roaming _everywhere_ – Yugyeom’s bare arms, easing under the thin fabric of his shirt, tracing the soft contours of his torso. His tongue knows Yugyeom’s mouth, knows what he likes and the younger’s moaning now too, fingers itching to feel Bambam’s skin but that’s not how it works now. Not today – he growls into Bambam’s mouth at that, Bambam only laughs and the tinkle of it is so beautiful, echoing in ripples under Yugyeom’s skin, making him shiver to the bone.

Just like that, it’s stretches and stretches of aimless kissing, aimless hands tracing aimless patterns on Yugyeom’s flushed skin. It’s too lazy for anything naughty, too sultry for anything passionate. Yugyeom says something in the breadth of space between their swollen lips, something that has Bambam giggling sweetly against his mouth. He smile is self satisfied, gentle hand now rogue as it presses gently on Bambam’s lower back, anchoring Bambam as he breaks away from the kiss to press his cheek against Yugyeom’s, body shaking with giddy mirth. Yugyeom kisses his temple like that, his cheek like that, the side of Bambam’s mouth like that before drawing their lips together again, deepening the kiss this time until Bambam’s face is cozy between the wide spread of Yugyeom’s palms, thumbs massaging a spot just above his cheekbones.

“I love you,” one of them mumbles, earnest ghosts between kisses, “I love you too,” the other whispers back, so awfully fond.

And then, because Yugyeom has to place his foot down, reach _some_ sort of negotiation if only to make himself feel better – “We’re still going to Google it and talk it over with the rest.”

And _then_ , because Bambam considers this a victory anyway, nothing quite as satisfying as Yugyeom sweaty and rosy cheeked under him, dark hair a ridiculous mess because of _Bambam’s_ fingers and no one else’s – “Alright.”

  

**Author's Note:**

> i finally have a got7 sideblog now?? wow! hmu @ imjaybum w/ prompts if u wanna c:


End file.
